He couldn’t see much but a bundle of rags, from which sparkled a pair of beady black eyes. But he put his finger down among the rags. The baby seized it and gurgled. The sweat broke out on Jim’s brow.
“Cain’t you let me hold de baby a minute?” he said angrily. “You must be ’fraid I’ll run off wid huh.” He took the child awkwardly in his arms.
The boiling over of Mandy’s clothes took her to the other part of the room, where she was busy for a few minutes. When she turned to look for Jim, he had slipped out, and Jimsella was lying on the bed trying to kick free of the coils which swaddled her.
At supper-time that evening Jim came in with a piece of “shoulder-meat” and a head of cabbage.
“You’ll have to git my dinnah ready fu’ me to ca’y to-morrer. I’s wo’kin’ on de street, an’ I cain’t come home twell night.”
“Wha’, what!” exclaimed Mandy, “den you ain’ gwine leave, aftah all.”
“Don’t bothah me, ooman,” said Jim. “Is Jimsella ’sleep?”